


No Fantasy Required

by manixzen



Series: HP Kinktober 2020 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Claustrophobia, Couch Sex, Eventual Smut, Hogwarts Professors, M/M, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Room of Requirement, just for a minute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manixzen/pseuds/manixzen
Summary: The Room of Requirement has never quite recovered from the war. It seems hell-bent on fulfilling every need of students and faculty alike, in or out of the room itself. Professors Potter and Malfoy really wish it would stop trying to do the students’ homework, though.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: HP Kinktober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952512
Comments: 16
Kudos: 245
Collections: HP Kinktober 2020





	No Fantasy Required

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hp Kinkfest  
>  **Day 17: Room of Requirement**
> 
> Thank you, Chuck, for the eleventh-hour beta!

Harry walked through the castle with purpose, a stack of parchments crumpled in his fist. He was going to give that room a piece of his mind. He didn’t really know if the room would listen, but it would make him feel better.

It had taken him two full weeks to figure out why so many of his students’ essays for Defence Against the Dark Arts were so strange. Well, it took two weeks to get a student to confess. The essays weren’t always wrong, although sometimes they were that also, but they were just off. Sentences put together oddly, strange word choices, not to mention handfuls of students turning in essays with handwriting that was clearly not their own.

It was the damn room again. The room that had been so invaluable during the last few years of the war had never quite recovered from it. No one knew if it was the fiendfyre or damage from the battle, but the Room of Requirement just wasn’t right.

The room seemed hell-bent on giving the castle’s inhabitants whatever they needed or even wanted, which might have been fine if it had kept its magic to the confines of its walls. Its sentient powers now seemed to extend beyond the room itself, as random items kept popping up in the hallways nearby. On a particularly chilly night, Harry had even been gifted a warm wool jumper while doing rounds. 

If the room had stuck to more innocuous things, it wouldn’t have been such a problem. However, in a building of hundreds of teenagers, the items procured were not always helpful or even allowed. It had made searching for illicit alcohol an absolute nightmare, as the room seemed to have no problem making firewhiskey by the gallon. Frustrating though it was, Harry may have snatched a few of the bottles for himself. Teaching was exhausting, after all.

But now it had taken to doing the students’ homework for them.

As Harry turned the final corner to the hallway on the sixth floor, he saw he was not the only one with that destination. Malfoy was already standing in front of the door, hands on his hips.

While Malfoy wasn’t his favourite colleague at Hogwarts, they’d managed to settle into at least a professional relationship over the last few years. Unfortunately for Harry, the less he hated the man, the more he noticed how annoyingly attractive he’d become. He’d settled into his features and softened somewhat—no longer slicking his hair back severely. And really it wasn’t just his looks, Harry knew, if begrudgingly. He was interesting and funny, and still a little snarky. For months, Harry had felt an all too familiar obsession growing. The end result being that Harry still found himself staring at him in the Great Hall and, now, faculty meetings, but for slightly more embarrassing reasons.

“Malfoy,” he said in greeting.

“This room will not let me in, Potter.”

“Okay, erm, why are you trying to get in?” Harry asked. It wasn’t that long ago that Malfoy avoided that hallway altogether, always finding a reason he couldn’t go up there during rounds. Harry guessed it had to do with the fire, but he never asked. They didn’t need to be drudging that night back up ten years later.

“This room has been procuring or creating pre-made potions for my students!” Draco continued to glare daggers at the door, clearly furious.

Harry held up his stack of papers, and Draco managed to drag his eyes away from his new enemy for a minute.

“What are those?”

“Completed essays,” Harry replied.

“Oh! Well, I suppose I’m glad it’s not just me. Are they as terrible as the potions I’ve been receiving?” he asked, before turning back to the door. “Terrible! Did you hear me? These are Troll level potions!”

Harry watched him continue to berate the door, feeling a bit awkward watching the exchange, or one-way rant, as it were. At the same time, he found himself staring a little too long, watching as Malfoy’s hair fell forward as he continued to lecture the room, watching how his robes hugged his shoulders, pulling tight as the man began wagging his finger mid-rant.

“Right,” Harry said, pulling himself out his increasingly inappropriate reverie. Just as he was about to turn and leave, the door clicked open and slowly swung inward with a creak.

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up and then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to see it’s finally listening to reason.”

“Are you going to go in?” Harry wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.

Malfoy froze for a moment, seeming to consider the scenario more carefully now that he was no longer in a tirade.

Then a force pushed them both inside, straight onto a worn leather sofa on the far wall. Harry leapt for the door as it started to swing shut, but couldn’t reach it in time. As soon as the door closed, came the sound of grinding metal. A click.

A blank facade of a door sat in front of them. No doorknob, nothing to suggest it opened at all. Harry grabbed his wand and cast every single spell he knew to open something. Nothing worked.

“Oh hell,” Harry said. He turned to see Malfoy looking panicked, colour drained from his face. “We’ll figure a way out.”

“An expert in this room are you now?” Malfoy snapped at him.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing it was likely about covering his fear and not really about Harry, but the man still knew how to push his buttons. He took stock of the room. It was small, small enough that Harry had to take a few deep breaths and fight off the claustrophobia he had as a gift from too much of a childhood spent in a cupboard. They couldn’t both panic, so Harry needed to get it under control.

There was the sofa against the wall behind them, taking up the whole width of the wall and a plush deep blue rug under their feet, nearly covering the whole space. That was it. That was really all that could fit besides the two of them.

Harry couldn’t stop the creeping panic at the tightness of the space, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He pulled open his robes and loosened his tie.

“Are you okay?” Malfoy asked, concern in his voice.

“Sorry, just—small spaces,” Harry tugged at his tie again, trying to breathe.

“Do you want to sit?” he asked.

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Harry sucked in some air, his lungs tight. Just as he was about to full-blown panic, the room expanded ever so slightly. Just enough so he could breathe again. He exhaled loudly and bent over, putting his hands on his knees, thanking the room silently in his head. He didn’t need Malfoy seeing him have a panic attack. Harry didn’t have them as much anymore, not like right after the war. But he still had his triggers. Small spaces being one of them.

“Well, I suppose, we should thank you for that, Room,” Malfoy said dryly. “Although, it would be even better if you let us out now.”

There was no response from the room.

“I think maybe we should send for help at this point,” Harry said, before sending off his Patronus, breathing a sigh of relief when it disappeared through the wall.

“Ah yes. The room that no one, not Minerva nor the Wizarding Space professionals, nor the Charms experts of Wizarding England have been able to enter when the room chose to not let them in,” Malfoy said dryly. “I’m sure we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“You know what, Malfoy. Just shut up.” Harry plopped down on the sofa, keeping to the far end of one side.

* * *

Harry stared at the ceiling, as he sprawled out on the rug. It had been hours. Malfoy had claimed the sofa, and Harry was too tired to argue with him at this point. It had already been late at the point he’d gone to seek out the Room of Requirement. Now, it was nearing midnight. They’d managed to at least stay hydrated with conjured glasses and _aguamentis_. Fortunately, the room wasn’t completely cruel, and a door appeared in one of the walls when Harry really needed the loo. Although, it seemed not interested in giving them the additional space permanently, as the door immediately disappeared again as soon as Harry had left it. When Malfoy had to go a bit later, he’d tried staying in that room, only to be pushed out with the same force that had forced them into the room in the first place.

Harry didn’t want to think about what would happen if the room wanted to keep them there for days, knowing that it couldn’t provide food.

Malfoy sighed for what must have been the hundredth time, and Harry commiserated silently.

“I just don’t understand. Is it angry that we didn’t like its gifts? You weren’t even yelling at it,” Malfoy said.

“Yeah, maybe it’s more about the intent, though. I mean it knows what people are thinking, right? That’s how it normally gives you what you want.”

“Okay, so what does that matter? It knows you didn’t want students to have the papers?”

“Oh, well, no. I came up here to yell at it too,” Harry confessed.

Malfoy snorted a laugh. “Well, that makes me at least mildly less embarrassed by my behaviour. So, then it’s just trying to punish us?”

Harry thought about that for a minute. “It doesn’t feel right. This room hasn’t done anything vindictive yet, right? Even with the charms experts were blasting it with spells, it didn’t try to hurt them or trap them. It only seems to give people what they want, or maybe what it thinks they want.”

“So it thinks we want to be stuck in this room together?” Malfoy asked, tone incredulous. “If so, it’s got more damage than we thought.”

Harry swallowed. Was it him? Being trapped in a small room with Malfoy wouldn’t have been too far off from the directions his thoughts had been straying.

“Unless it just wanted me,” Draco said a moment later, quietly.

“What?”

“It hasn’t tried to hurt anyone that was trying to fix it, but what about the person that caused this damage in the first place? I wouldn’t even know, really, I’ve barely come up here since I’ve started here; it could have been waiting, and you were just in the wrong place—”

“Malfoy, stop.” Harry sat up trying to stop Malfoy from the spiral he seemed to be going down. “You didn’t do this.”

“But—”

“No. You were there, but you didn’t cause this damage. The room knows that.”

Malfoy bit his lip and continued to stare at the ceiling from his reclined position. Harry scooted over closer to the end of the sofa by Malfoy’s feet, using the cushions as a backrest.

“It has to be something else,” Harry said, feeling cowardly for not telling him his theory. He wasn’t quite ready to own up to that.

“Do you think it thinks we need to work things out?” Malfoy asked after a few minutes, sounding hesitant.

Harry looked over at him. That was a possibility he hadn’t considered, and it could make sense as something they wanted. Harry certainly didn’t want to fight with him any more even if he still drove him nuts some days.

“Maybe,” Harry replied.

“Is that—” Malfoy cleared his throat. “Is that something you would want?”

“Yes, it is,” Harry said. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I know we mostly get along these days, but yeah, it’s something I’ve thought of. That it would be nice to move past that.”

“Me too,” Malfoy said to Harry’s surprise.

“Yeah? Okay, well erm—how do we…”

Malfoy sat up, pulling his legs down next to Harry, keeping to his side of the sofa. “Well. I could start by apologising.”

Harry tried to not let the shock show on his face, but he wasn’t sure he was entirely successful.

“I’m sorry for my part in the war, and for everything I said to you and your friends, especially Granger.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected, but not that direct and clear of an apology. He took a beat to get his bearings. “Okay, thank you. And suppose I need to apologise to you for the bathroom, it was— I didn’t know what it did, but that was no excuse. Honestly, I should have apologised years ago, so I’m sorry it took so long also.”

“Well now I need to add another apology for taking so long myself,” Malfoy said, his mouth curling into a smile. “Always have to one-up me, Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Hey while we’re at it, how about you call me Harry? So we can, you know, stop reliving our traumatic childhoods together.

Malfoy huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure I’ve ever even heard you say my name.”

“Draco,” Harry said, the word feeling strange on his tongue. Draco looked a little shocked at hearing his name come out of Harry’s mouth but seemed to recover quickly.

Draco cleared his throat, a small smile playing on his lips. “Harry.”

Harry immediately regretted this suggestion. Hearing his name coming from the other man only reminded him of more than a few fantasies he’d let himself have over the past couple years. He rolled up the cuffs of his dress shirt, wishing he’d worn thinner slacks; he was roasting in his jeans.

“Well. I can’t say I’m upset to have got that off my chest, but the door’s still not open.”

Harry sighed and let his head fall back on the cushions, trying to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was for Draco to see him getting hard at just the sound of his name spoken in that posh accent of his. He took another deep breath and tried to relax.

A few minutes later, he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye, and then Draco swore.

“What’s wrong?”

“My blasted cooling charms aren’t working,” he said, waving his wand again, but this time saying the incantation out loud.

Harry frowned and grabbed his wand, casting the same over himself. Nothing.

“Great. Apparently, the room is trying to sweat us out.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the sudden temperature increase,” he replied.

Harry had assumed it had just been him, but now that Draco mentioned it, it really was getting warm in there. Well, shit.

They settled into another silence, letting the minutes tick by.

* * *

Another few degrees later and Harry had shed everything but his jeans. He’d been a bit embarrassed to toss off his shirt, but after another couple of degrees, it was necessary. He’d even tried to transfigure his jeans into shorts, but the room wasn’t having it. Apparently, it was determined that they suffer through this sauna. Harry supposed he should at least be grateful that he didn’t find his clothes unable to be removed.

To Harry’s disappointment, but likely Draco’s relief, he was wearing a thin vest under his dress shirt. So he was slightly more covered than Harry at the moment. He sat leaning up against the armrest of the sofa, looking exhausted. Every time it looked like he started to relax, he’d startle and pull his arm tight against him. Eventually, Harry worked it out.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” he finally said, taking pity on him.

Draco startled but collected himself quickly. “You shouldn’t have to see it.”

“I’ve seen it before; I know it’s there. Seriously, it doesn’t bother me,” Harry replied.

Draco made a sound of disbelief.

“Well, anymore, I mean. It obviously did during the war.” Harry said.

Draco nodded, and Harry could see him slowly and incrementally allow himself to relax. It was getting hotter.

Harry felt another wave of claustrophobia hit him and stood up so that he could pace and move around a bit. Draco’s eyes followed him, narrowing the longer he walked around the room.

“You’re just making it hotter in here! With all your—” Draco waved his hand at Harry.

“I am not—it’s a million bloody degrees already! I doubt my body heat is having any impact at this point,” Harry grit out.

“For the love of Merlin, sit down! Or at least put on your damn shirt so I’m not feeling even hotter!”

Harry plopped down on the sofa again. Was it getting smaller? He didn’t remember being this close to Draco earlier. As he wondered about this, his brain caught up to him.

“Wait, what?” He turned to look at the man.

“Nothing--you’re just—” Draco waved his hand in Harry’s direction, seemingly focused on his bare chest.

Harry got a little more brave, wanting to pull it out of the other man, hoping he was right. “Is this bothering you?”

Draco’s face turned a brighter shade of red, impressive given its already flushed state. “Oh shut up, you know you’re attractive.”

“You think I’m attractive?” he asked, still not sure he was understanding this correctly. Unfortunately, that only seemed to embarrass Draco more and his jaw tightened.

“Wait, I mean—” Harry scooted over just a hair, realising maybe he’d got the room’s intentions right a few hours ago. He just didn’t know it was mutual at the time. Harry desperately hoped he wasn’t misreading this as he pulled up all his Gryffindor bravery to ask, “So, if I were to kiss you right now?”

Draco turned to him sharply, his eyes flicking to Harry’s lips the moment the words were said. He inhaled sharply.

Harry closed the distance, meeting him halfway. Draco’s lips pressed against his own, hungry and incessant. As he started to press closer, he became very aware of how sweaty and gross he was at the moment; he pulled back slightly.

No sooner had he had that thought as a cool breeze whipped through the room, drying him off immediately. They both looked up startled.

“Well, I think we got our answer,” Harry said, a grin breaking out on his face.

Draco’s lips curved into a smile. “Well, we should probably make sure that we accept this kind gift.”

Harry let himself be pulled back down, letting his hands run up Draco’s arms, trace along his thin vest, as he captured the man’s lips over and over again. “Still want me to put my shirt on?” Harry asked, smiling against his jaw.

Draco huffed a laugh. “No. In fact, I need you to be out of those bloody jeans immediately.”

Harry pushed back into a sitting position on the other side of the sofa, which seemed to have stretched out again. If Harry wasn’t mistaken, it was deeper now also, nearly the size of a single bed. He shimmied out of his jeans, tossing them across the room, which was now flickering in warm candlelight.

Harry let out a laugh of surprise as he looked around; it was positively cliche. It looked like a scene straight out of one of Hermione’s Wizarding romance novels. Candles floating in the air, blankets and pillows now stacked up in the corners of the room.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, this room,” Draco said, sounding a mix between fond and exasperated. Harry looked over to see that he was also down to his boxer briefs, and his mouth watered at the sight.

The mood shifted, their eyes locked as they made their way toward one another. When they touched this time, Harry felt a charge in the air, the atmosphere thick around them. Years of dancing around each other, first in anger, then in interest, coming to this moment. To a kiss, a touch.

Harry pushed him back on the sofa, positioning himself between Draco’s knees, kissing down his body, licking, nipping, sucking. Getting drunk off the moans coming out of the other man, absolutely intoxicated by the idea that those moans were because of him.

Draco’s hands wandered his body, leaving no spot unexplored. A hand ran up Harry’s back, running through his hair, pulling back. Harry moaned, letting his head fall back, following the motion. He heard Draco inhale sharply at the movement.

Unable to stop exploring for long, Harry dropped back down to his chest, finding a nipple, letting his mouth close over it, flicking it, biting gently, biting a little harder.

“Oh gods. I don’t know how you— I want to— will you fuck me?” Draco stammered out between gasps as Harry continued his ministrations. Harry felt his cock jump at the thought.

“Fuck, yes.” Harry leaned back, working his pants off a little less smoothly than intended, accidentally catching his fully hard cock on the band. He took his time with Draco’s, pulling them down slowly, enjoying the slow reveal. After a few well-placed kisses and a long lick up his cock, which pulled a very needy moan out of Draco, Harry smiled and turned to grab his wand on the floor. He broke out at a laugh at what he saw. Draco leaned up surprised at Harry’s reaction and then burst out laughing himself. There was now a coffee table in front of the very expanded sofa with everything they could possibly need. There had to be at least ten different types of lube.

Harry grabbed his wand, still smiling at the ridiculousness of this room. “Protection spells okay?” he asked.

Draco nodded and Harry cast the various charms, not bothering with conjured lube. That would clearly not be needed. He grabbed a bottle of lube and slid himself down Draco’s body, enjoying every little detail, the cut of his hip, the small smattering of light hair that trailed from his stomach, his cock already red and straining.

He kissed the tip, licking and teasing just a bit before taking it in entirely, relishing the moans and curses now streaming out of Draco’s mouth. He coated his fingers, still working Draco’s cock and slipped a hand down, behind his already tightening balls, until he found his soft puckering hole. He let himself play there for a minute, letting Draco get used to the sensation, before pressing in

“Fuck, just—it’s not been that long, just—” Draco huffed out, broken by a moan at the end.

Harry chuckled around his cock and slowly pushed in his fingers, working up to three quickly. He dragged them in and out, crooking them every few thrusts, working Draco up to a frenzy as he grazed his prostate.

“Fuck!” Draco called out, his moans getting louder.

Harry pulled back, sitting back on his heels, drinking in the sight. Draco looked thoroughly debauched. A flush ran up his chest, his eyes glazed over, lip swollen from where he’d been biting it, hair falling over his eyes. Harry felt his chest clench and hoped with all his might that while this might be their first that it wasn’t their last.

He slicked himself up with more of the lube and lined up, grabbing Draco’s legs to hold them steady. Draco locked his eyes on Harry, and that charge was back, like the feeling just after a powerful spell went off and hung in the air. Harry didn’t break his gaze as he slowly slid in. Both of their breathing sped up, hitched, as Harry bottomed out. Unable to maintain the intensity of looking in those grey eyes for another minute, Harry leaned forward, capturing his lips and began to move.

They moved together and separate, coming together, rolling their hips, sometimes in perfect sync, oftentimes not.

They kissed, tongues dragging, as their climaxes built, slowly at first and then stronger, all-consuming. Harry reached between them to help Draco along. The intensity of it was getting to Harry, making him dizzy. It was years of antagonism, years of obsession, and the last few years of tentative peace all converging. Harry’s orgasm rolled through him, and he continued to work Draco until he was cresting over the edge, as well.

Drained both physically and emotionally, Harry collapsed to the side of him, resting his head on Draco’s chest. The sofa was resembling a proper bed by then, just the armrests stretched out as a sign that it may have started the journey as anything else. As he came down from the high of his orgasm, he wondered what would come of this. He couldn’t imagine ever being able to go back to the way things were. He wouldn’t be able to, he knew it. Everything about them had always been so intense, so extreme. They’d never be able to be acquaintances.

Just as he was starting to spiral internally, he felt Draco’s hand come to his back slowly rubbing a small circle.

“So that was…” Harry started.

“Incredible? World rocking?” Draco finished.

Harry looked up to see a smile on his face.

“So, Harry,” Draco said, eyes sparkling. “How would you feel about going on a date with me?”

Harry let out a surprised laugh before leaning up to catch his lips in a lazy kiss. 


End file.
